Shattered Lives: Another Siran Seza Discovery

Seza yearns for a world that can accommodate the sincerity, purity and innocence of Alina and her peers. Hers is a vision of a world with its own spiritual energy and moral laws that transcend “the evil laws of men,” to borrow Alina’s words.

Shattered Lives pleads for a world without the bargains and the hypocrisies of a society where women “sell themselves” in marriage. Alina loves Ared with the “undeniable eternal law of love.” Even if the purity of her feelings destines her to suffering and to pain, and traditions ultimately win, her “I want to love” is what makes life desirable. Seza creates enormous sympathy for her protagonist, who may sometimes be spoiled and capricious, yet is never mean or condescending. Alina is all goodness and kindness. “My good Anna,” whispers “the little girl” to the overjoyed maid as she impulsively hugs her and kisses her “dark cheeks.”

This world of integrity the novel evokes is inextricably connected to Seza’s passion for everything Armenian. Her heroine is ready to sacrifice all she has for a free homeland. Deep in her heart, Alina knows that her people will reemerge from the ashes. The orphans she volunteers to teach “promised an amazing new generation. . . The Turks had not been able to kill their spirit.”

Yet the pain lingers. In a city evoked throughout as “the most beautiful corner of the world,” nature is mournful in its beauty. The bright sunshine is short-lived. The glorious sunset of Scutari is Alina’s connection with her absent loved ones. “The mournful whistle of the steamship” transporting soldiers to the Black Sea and “the melancholy call of the Muezzin” sadden the feeble girl. Chopin, George Sand, Alfred de Musset and The Sorrows of Young Werther by Goethe are ever-present. Yet the world of the novel is not a depressing or a disheartening world. Indeed, Shattered Lives gives us a glimpse into a world where the possibility of happiness exists, even if the inhabitants of its fictional world do not have it. Paradoxically, dreams bring back the desire to live, just as life destroys those dreams. Alina will never cease to believe in “the miracle of love.”

With remarkable skill Seza depicts war in all of its destructiveness. In elegant naturally flowing prose, she gives expression to the despondency over an endless war.  With her portrayal of the Martenian family’s 1917 New Year’s Eve she contrasts a whole past of abundance, of joy and of family closeness with a present full of disruptions. Alina mourns the plight of her people and weeps for the Armenian soldiers who have to fight for the glory of bloodthirsty sultans. The massacres are always in the background. The oversensitive girl cries for absent loved ones. With her vivid images Seza reveals a whole inner world of feelings. The spark of Ared and Alina’s fingers touching and separating is palpable.

An interesting strategy is the interweaving of entries from Alina’s diary into the narrative. Even if these at times create some repetition, as when Alina recalls a scene that has already been described in the narrative, they provide much insight into the sensitive girl’s innermost feelings.